Rogue One, But Better
by Lord Kristine
Summary: Everything you wanted from Rogue One, but did not get.


On the space-farm of the Erso family, Jyn Erso plays with a space-pinwheel or an alien doll or some sort of toy that represents childhood innocence. Her father, Galen Erso, crouches beside her and remarks:

"Hello, Jyn. I see you are playing with this nonspecific object in an innocent way. I'm going to say something thematically appropriate, such as a passive-aggressive remark about the Death Star disguised as advice on how to play your game properly. Seeing your confusion, I will brush it off by saying something simple and sweet, at which point I'll observe the spaceship of doom landing, and tell you to get inside the house or run away."

The spaceship of doom lands.

"Oh, no. It is the spaceship of doom," says Galen, "Run, Jyn. Run after I urge you to do so several times."

Jyn runs away after her father urges her to do so several times. She hides in a hole or something until a man with a robot suit comes to rescue her.

"Hello, Jyn," he says, "My name is very hard to spell, and it will probably screw up the writer's autocorrect suggestions, so let's just call me Bob."

Bob takes her away, and we see a montage of the things they do together while Jyn grows up in his care, because it would be stupid to skip over such an important plot element. This collection of scenes will allow the audience to feel emotion during Bob's eventual death.

After this montage, we jump ahead thirteen years or however long it was, and introduce Cassian and K-2SO. They do some things, then meet up with Jyn, like in the movie, but better.

"Hello, woman I will eventually fall in love with," says Cassian, "I am your love interest, but we will only be romantically involved when I choose not to kill your father later, because that's, like, a character arc or something. Also, I have this robot sidekick, who instead of spouting (debatably) funny lines with no discernible purpose other than to provide the illusion of a tonally complete film, actually provides comic relief that ties into his character, possibly related to the fact that we reprogrammed him."

"Clever remark introducing myself by pleasantly threatening to betray you, but not being serious," says K-2SO.

"His eventual death will be meaningful, because while we don't fully trust him now, we will see that he was on our side all along."

"Okay!" says Jyn.

They go to Tatooine to meet up with Bob, who has a reputation as a space-terrorist or whatever. There are Dewbacks. Bob has sacrificed his morals to further the cause of the Rebellion, slaughtering the families of Stormtroopers or something. He pats Jyn on the back jovially.

"Hello, Jyn. It has been a long time. Allow me to bring up specific fond memories of interacting with you in your childhood, which also relate to your character, such as how stubborn you were and still are to this day."

"But you've changed since then," Jyn says dolefully, "You've become the very thing that you hate. Furthering our cause with the same tactics as the Empire is wrong, and this is the moral of the movie, which brings up interesting questions about the end justifying the means."

"I'm going to point out that you're only laying low because you believe that the rebellion will not accept you, since your father is involved with the Empire."

The ground shakes.

"Oh my god, the plot is back and we haven't resolved this theme!" Jyn cries.

"That's okay. You'll discover your purpose in the second act!" Bob cries.

They flee, but Bob is hit by a rock or something.

"You have to leave me!" Bob shouts.

"I don't want to!" Jyn shouts back.

"I'm telling you to leave again, but I'm more insistent this time!" Bob shouts.

"I understand that I have no choice. Goodbye!" Jyn shouts back.

The Death Star has shot the planet with laser beams or whatever. Everyone flies into space to escape it. They take a moment to take in the death of Bob.

"Thematic talk instigated by recounting what just happened," says Jyn.

"Counter remark that fosters an argument based on our conflicting morals," says Cassian.

"Argument growing more heated," says Jyn.

"I'm calling you out for being the daughter of an Empire guy!"

"I'm calling _you_ out for having no heart!"

"You think _I_ don't have a heart? Just wait until you hear this backstory explaining why I am the way I am: something bad happened to me in my childhood. I lost friends and/or family, not unlike _you_ did, but I'm unaware of the similarities between our stories because my trauma blinds me to the fact that we should bond through our shared experiences."

"I point out these similarities, then make a bitter quip about how I don't go shooting people because of my past, implying that you reacted poorly to your trauma."

"But I have to shoot people, because I'm dedicated to this cause, and I'm firm in my beliefs, despite the fact that it's stripping me of my humanity."

"I hate you for this, because you are going to shoot my father, and I love him."

"I am going to shoot your father, and that's final!"

He does not shoot her father. Jyn sees that his heart has softened, but her father abruptly dies in another way, and she is distressed. She runs to meet him, and he smiles at her with tears in his eyes.

"Remember the pinwheel or doll from the beginning of the story? I'm bringing that up again before dying in the middle of my sen-"

Jyn cries. They fly away. Cassian says he's sorry about her father. They share a moment. This is the beginning of their romance.

Then they're off to the rebel base. There is no shot of the guy on the scout tower, because that reference is painfully obvious, and went on for way too long in the movie. The rebel base is crowded with people, all hurried and worried, as their resistance is failing. Severely injured individuals are rushed back and forth on hospital cots. Some are dead. One of the cloth-covered cots has a haillu hanging out of it. Jyn has a conference with Mothy McMothFace to discuss the possibility of a heist.

"Thematic things relating to our political cause," Jyn says.

"I resist," Mothy replies.

"I'm giving you a more persuasive argument," Jyn insists.

"I'm still resisting," Mothy asserts.

"Moving speech."

"Okay, go do your hero thing."

They go do their hero thing. The climax is the same, but this time, we actually care about the characters, because they have been established and expanded upon. When Jyn and Cassian are sitting on the beach, they share their first and final kiss in a bittersweet conclusion to their doomed romance.

Then they have beach-anal for a few seconds before being burned alive.

The Death Star plans are beamed to Leia, and there is no Darth Vader, because why the hell would he even need to be in the movie other than to trick fans into thinking that they're going to get something out of his presence, other than shallow, meaningless action. Darth Vader isn't cool just because he's Darth Vader. He has to do cool things, not coast on the cool things he did in the other movies. Plus, he was an annoying brat when he was a kid, so anyone who says he's cool automatically must have forgotten about that, and also about "NOOOOOOOOO!".

Anyway, CGI Leia shows up, says her line, and the movie ends. The post-credits scene shows hybrid dinosaurs playing tennis for no reason.

 **The End**

"Wait, wait, wait," Jyn says, "I thought people _liked_ the movie."

Yeah, but people also like blood sausage. I don't fault people for enjoying Rogue One. I _envy_ them, in fact. To a girl who expected Disney and Lucasfilm to churn out an (at least) _passable_ Star Wars movie, I was shocked and a little traumatized, to be honest. I mean, I thought the trailers were weak, but I was excited for the film. I spent a fortune on three D-Box seats for me and my friends, and at the end of the night, I felt empty.

"But why? It ended on a high note. You loved the climax."

I loved the _idea_ of the climax. But a good action sequence can't save a movie, no matter how much we want it to. I'm realizing more and more that characters are the heart of a narrative. That's why it would be infinitely more fascinating to see Luke and Leia having space-coffee than to see people hitting each other with glowsticks all day. Star Wars has never been about the ships or the aliens or the lightsabers. It was about people who _cared_ about something, and even more so, cared about _each other_. Things like AT-AT Walkers and space battles make for good merchandise, but the true core of Star Wars is the interactions between characters. Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter.

"But it wasn't as bad as the prequels."

No, but it had many of the same problems. I guess I'm just wondering why a story I popped out in literally less than an hour has more character development than a movie that cost a shit-gazillion dollars to make.

"That's all subjective."

I know, but watching Rogue One, I hated myself. I hated myself for not feeling, and once again, I had to wonder if people were simply blind to the movie's flaws, or if there really _is_ something wrong with me. I think that's definitely a possibility. After all, I thought Jar Jar Binks was the only interesting character in the prequels.

"Yeah, that's pretty messed up."

So, I guess that's it, then. I'm a terrible person because I was unable to connect with characters in a Star Wars movie.

"I saw you tearing up at the end."

Can I tell you a secret? I was tearing up because I was imagining two of my own characters sitting by the shore, awaiting their imminent demise.

". . . While having anal?"

No! Shut up! . . . Why am I so attached to my own characters? They're not even canon!

"They may not be canon, but they are certainly fictional. They're no less real than canon characters, for this reason."

I guess you're right. Thanks, Jyn.

"Actually, I'm just a figment of your imagination. Rogue One put you in a coma, and you're about to die."

Well, that's not a very satisfying conclu-


End file.
